Just Wait
by sasha1600
Summary: Gibbs is away from the office. A case comes in. Tony is in charge. Warning: spanking of adult. Don’t like? Don’t read!
1. Chapter 1

**Just Wait**

**Summary:** Gibbs is away from the office. A case comes in. Tony is in charge. **Warning:** spanking of adult. Don't like? Don't read!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own them, I just play with them.

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A/N: This is part of my 'Lessons' series and builds on a larger plot arc. This was inspired by a comment draggon-flye made about another work-in-progress. My Muse decided that this plot bunny was more interesting at the moment.

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**Warning: this story contains the non-sexual spanking of an adult. If you have a problem with that, click on that 'back' button now. You've been warned.**

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Tony looked around the crime scene, trying not to chortle too gleefully. After all, a Marine was dead. Taking too much pleasure in being in charge of the investigation would be unseemly.

It wasn't as if there would be much of an investigation, anyway. A Marine who had been suffering from PTSD since returning from Iraq, dead of a gunshot wound to the head, his service weapon lying just inches away from the body? In the house that had belonged to his grandparents, where he had spent what was probably the only happy times in his troubled childhood? Yeah, it didn't take much investigating to figure out what had happened here.

Still, until Ducky actually _said_ that it was suicide, it was an active case.

And with Gibbs away at some top-secret security briefing with the whole alphabet soup, it was _his_ active case.

Not that he was taking undue advantage of his authority or anything. It was hardly unreasonable for him to have sent Tim back out to the car to fetch the back-up camera after the first one had inexplicably decided that it didn't want to work today. After all, he was the agent in charge of the scene, and Tim was the probie. That's what probies were for.

Tony cast another look around the room, thinking yet again how much the whole abandoned, empty house thing reminded him of far too many horror movies. All this place needed was some creepy music and a ghost or two. And remembering McGee's hesitation earlier about making their way through the deserted, creaking rooms, he didn't think he was the only one wondering just what they'd find.

Hearing the heavy back door of the truck slam shut and imagining Tim warily making his way inside, he was struck with inspiration. A few stealthy steps carried him almost noiselessly across the room. Gingerly easing a door open, he slipped inside the large closet. He pulled the door shut mere seconds before he heard Tim reach the top of the stairs. Holding his breath, he waited.

X X X

Tim reached the top of the creaky old staircase and headed towards the small bedroom where Lance Corporal Lancaster's body was lying. His eyes still hadn't entirely adjusted to the dim light that filtered through the dirty skylight in the hall, but he didn't bother turning on a flashlight. He didn't really need it to manage the few feet of hallway, and there was more than enough light from the window in the bedroom itself.

He didn't pay much attention to the slight creaking behind him. It was an old house that had been empty for years. If he freaked out every time a board settled somewhere, he'd never hear the end of it from Tony. The jokes about the haunted crime scene were bad enough. He really didn't need...

'AAAAAARRRRRRRR!'

The loud shriek right in his ear and the hand suddenly descending on his shoulder were enough to jar him into a frenzy of action. After all, he was a trained federal agent, and he'd spent enough time sparring with a certain gruff former Marine. He didn't even have to think about how to react to an unexpected rear attack. His instincts kicked in and his body responded without waiting for his brain to catch up with what was happening.

X X X

Tony blinked up at the ceiling.

_When the hell did Probie's reflexes get so good?_


	2. Chapter 2

'Hold still, Tony!'

'C'mon, Ducky! I don't have a concussion! Can you stop with the damn light in my eyes?'

To his relief, the ME finally passed the penlight to Palmer.

To his dismay, he started prodding painfully at his wrist.

'AHHHH!'

'I take it that that is a bit tender?'

Tony just glared at him.

'Well, I don't think it is broken, but it is quite a nasty sprain. Mr. Palmer, would you be so kind as to hand me that bandage? I'll need to... ah, thank you, Timothy. Now, I want you to keep this... yes, just like that...'

Tony held the chemical cold-pack against his rapidly-swelling wrist and glared over Ducky's shoulder at Tim, who was fidgeting wildly. But before he could make a scathing comment about the younger man looking like a little boy in need of a toilet, Ducky had resumed his monologue, his tone taking on a decidedly scolding note.

'What on earth were you thinking, jumping out like that, at a _crime_ _scene_ of all places? For heaven's sake, Tony, you are lucky that Timothy didn't _shoot_ you! Honestly...'

Tony tuned him out for several minutes, letting the lecture wash over him and trying to ignore the pain in his wrist as Ducky continued his examination. He apparently didn't miss very much. When he finally started listening again, Ducky was still chastising him.

'...of all the idiotic stunts...'

'Ducky, I really don't need to hear about every story that this reminds you of. Can you just wrap my wrist so I can get back to w...'

'My dear boy, for once I don't _have_ a story comparable to your recklessness. In fact, the only thing that this little 'joke' of yours reminds me of, is a certain old expression.'

Tony looked up at him warily.

'Uh... what's that?'

'"Just wait until your father gets home"'.

'My f... uh... Ducky...'

'Tony, if you don't think that Jethro is going to have something to say about your complete lack of good sense, then perhaps I was too hasty in ruling out a brain injury...'


	3. Chapter 3

Gibbs rubbed a hand over his eyes while he waited for the elevator to reach its destination. After a ten-hour day of bureaucratic crap, the last thing he wanted was to deal with a new case. He was genuinely worried about Jenny, but right this moment he wanted her to stop taking unexpected time off mainly so that he wouldn't have to deal with things like today's security briefing.

At least from the sounds of things, the new case was open and shut. Pretty much literally.

Although, if the scuttlebutt was right that Ducky had already declared the death a suicide, it didn't make sense that his message was so adamant about Gibbs going to see him the moment he got in. DiNozzo should have already signed off on the report. Something didn't add up, and he had an unwelcome suspicion that whatever it was would mean he couldn't go home to his boat and a bottle of bourbon nearly as soon as he wanted to.

The elevator finally dinged, and he strode briskly towards Autopsy.

As the doors swished open, his eyes fell immediately on the far-too-familiar sight of his senior agent sitting on one of Ducky's steel tables. A quick scan revealed a brace on his wrist to be the only visible sign of injury, and he forced himself to relax, telling himself that Ducky would have sent Tony to the hospital if there were anything too serious wrong with him.

'What happened?'

Tony just stared at his feet. Gibbs wasn't surprised. He'd learned long ago that Tony would carry on for hours about a paper cut, but it was next to impossible to get him to talk about more serious injuries.

He was surprised, however, when Ducky grabbed Tony by his elbow and hauled him off the table, then practically marched him over to stand in front of him.

'Tell him.'

When Tony still didn't say anything, Ducky reached up and seized him by the ear.

'Yeaooowwww!'

'_Tell _him!'

'Duck?'

'Tony has something he wants to tell you, Jethro.'

'No, I don... OK!'

Tony rubbed at his ear.

'Tim threw me to the floor and stepped on my wrist after I'd already landed funny on it.'

Gibbs blinked, astonished and more than a little confused.

His surprise increased when the ME reached for his agent's ear again.

'OK! Enough with the ear! You're worse than my grandmother! Uh... because I... uh... jumped out of a closet and grabbed him... uh... from behind. At... uh... the crime scene.'

There was a long moment during which Tony shuffled his feet, Ducky continued to glower at him, and Gibbs looked back and forth between the two other men in stunned silence.

'Is he ok, Ducky?'

'Oh, he's fine, Jethro. His wrist is sprained, and I'd like to keep an eye on it for the next few days, but aside from that the only thing injured was his pride, at being thrown by young Timothy.'

'Good,' Gibbs growled before turning to glare at Tony.


	4. Chapter 4

Tim finished off his report and sent it to the printer, trying not to think about what was going to happen to him. He'd seen Gibbs stepping into the elevator a couple of minutes ago. By now, he must know what had happened at the crime scene. That Tony had been injured. And that he was responsible.

He grabbed the small sheaf of papers out of the machine as soon as it finished whirling and banged them on the edge of his desk to align the pages. Reaching for a pen, he realised that his hand was trembling slightly. He closed his eyes and forced himself to take a few deep breaths, hoping to calm down enough to sign the paperwork before Gibbs arrived.

The last time he'd gotten into a fight with Tony, Gibbs had introduced him to the heavy leather strap that he kept in his desk, making him drop his pants and stay in position without the help of a restraining hand on his back. Just the memory of the appalling pain of the whipping, and the dark red marks that had lingered for days on his ass and thighs, was enough to make his breath catch in his throat. The thought of having to repeat the experience was simply terrifying.

He hoped that that was all that Gibbs was planning to do to him.

As scared as he was of the whipping, he _really_ didn't want to be transferred to a different team, like Gibbs had told him would happen if he ever struck his partner again.

But, even though putting Tony on the ground, and spraining his wrist in the process, was much worse than the pushing and shoving that had resulted in his first taste of the strap, maybe, just maybe, the circumstances would be enough to let him keep his job. He knew that Gibbs would chew him out for not using his head, for not remembering that they'd already cleared the scene, for not realising that it was just Tony acting like Tony. But hopefully the fact that he hadn't been thinking, that he didn't intentionally attack his partner, would keep him on the team.

He scrawled his name on the report and dropped it on Gibbs's desk, wondering what was taking so long. Even allowing for Ducky's usual long-windedness, he was surprised that Gibbs was still down in Autopsy. Keeping his eyes fixed nervously on the elevator doors, he sat down to wait.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: The computer gremlins have had their little fun.... We now return you to the regularly scheduled story!

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Tony cringed at Gibbs's comment, knowing full well that it meant that he was about to become a little _less_ fine.

He probably should be glad that it was finally going to be over, he thought. It had been a very long day, waiting for Gibbs to get back. Ducky had insisted on keeping him in Autopsy, where he'd had nothing to distract him from the fact that he was going to be spanked. He'd argued that a sprained wrist wasn't so serious that he couldn't go back to work, but Ducky had not relented.

But even after a couple of hours of Ducky's reminders about how irresponsible his actions had been, and how much trouble he was now in, he didn't really want to get his punishment over with. Unless, that is, he could figure out a way to have it be over with, without it actually happening.

'Tony, what were you thinking?'

He was already tired of being asked that question, having heard several variations on the theme from Ducky. But he didn't think that refusing to answer would be such a good idea.

'That it would be funny to see McGee jump and scream like a little girl.'

'Tony...'

'Hey! You asked!' he huffed, somewhat indignantly. Gibbs couldn't have expected a profound explanation. He didn't need to sound so put out by the one he got.

'You know better than to screw around at a crime scene.'

'It's not like I contaminated evidence, or anything!' he protested, even though he knew it was futile. Of course Gibbs would consider it a serious breach of protocol, rather than the harmless prank that he'd had in mind at the time.

'I shouldn't have to babysit you to make sure that you behave like a field agent.'

'I didn't mean...'

'And I left you in charge, DiNozzo.'

'I know, Boss.'

'That means I _trusted_ you to act _responsibly_.'

'I... I know.'

Tony was hanging his head now, shuffling his feet uncertainly. He had to admit that he never would have done something like that while he was team leader, during what the Director liked to call Gibbs's 'margarita safari'. And he probably should have fallen back into that mindset today, instead of reacting like a mischievous school-boy whose teacher had been unexpectedly called from the room.

'Torturing the people under your command is not good leadership.'

Flushing furiously, he didn't even bother to reply, this time.

'And you're damn lucky that all McGee did was put you on your ass. For God's sake, Tony, he could have shot you!'

Tony's indignation returned. Ducky's earlier comments to the same effect still rankled, and he did not appreciate the reprise from Gibbs.

'C'mon, Boss... we're talking about _Probie!_ I still can't believe he managed to...'

'He has the same training you do, Tony. Do you really think that grabbing an armed federal agent from behind, at a crime scene, is a particularly good idea?!'

'No, I guess not. But...'

Gibbs abruptly turned away from him.

'You still got that old ruler around somewhere, Duck?'

Ducky seemed momentarily taken aback, but he recovered quickly, moving towards his desk and pulling open the top drawer. He rummaged for a few seconds before pulling out a heavy wooden ruler that, to Tony's practised eye, looked like it would carry quite a sting when applied to his backside.

'Here you are, Jethro,' he said, holding it out to Gibbs before continuing. 'Why don't I bring those samples up to Abby now, and give you two some privacy?'

Tony shot him a quick, grateful look as he passed him on the way to the door. He was relieved that he wasn't going to have an audience for his spanking. From the way that Ducky had been whole-heartedly endorsing Gibbs's usual discipline methods all afternoon, he hadn't been entirely sure if the irritated ME was planning to watch, or to help.

Just before the sliding glass doors closed on him, Ducky stuck out a hand to stop them and called back, 'Oh, and Jethro... before you leave, would you please have a word with Timothy? I'm afraid the lad hasn't figured out that _he_ isn't the one in trouble for today's events.'

Out of the corner of his eye, Tony saw Gibbs nod.

His relief about Ducky's departure quickly turned to dismay when he found himself seized by the arm and propelled across the room. Before he even realised what Gibbs intended, the older man had propped one foot up on the cross-bar of one of Ducky's tall stools and pushed him effortlessly over his upraised leg. Dismay turned to indignation.

'What the hell? Boss? You've got to be kidding me!'

'You got a better idea, Tony? You can't brace yourself on anything, with that wrist.'

'It's not that bad...'

'Tony...'

'So, I can just lay over the desk or something! I don't need both hands for that!'

'Tony...'

'C'mon, Gibbs... over your knee? Like a kid?'

'Considering how you acted, Tony, I'd say it was pretty appropriate!'

Tony felt Gibbs's arm tighten around his waist. He was still protesting when the ruler landed on his ass with a loud _crack_. He jerked forward under the force. The next stroke landed immediately, and he grunted loudly despite his efforts to stay silent. He'd definitely been right about the ruler looking painful. Two more strokes and he was actually yelping, and it wasn't long after that when he lost track of the number of times the solid strip of wood had been applied to his aching butt. By the time he felt Gibbs tipping him back onto his feet, his face was wet with tears and he was sobbing openly.

He was no longer surprised that Gibbs pulled him into a tight hug after a spanking, but he still wasn't entirely comfortable with it. And now, after a more intimate spanking than what he usually received at his boss's hands, he was less sure than usual that he wanted the comfort of an embrace. But, knowing that there was no point struggling, he tried to relax into the strong arms circling him.

To his relief, it was only a few moments before Gibbs released him.

'Tony, I wish you'd start _thinking_ before you follow through on one of your brainwaves.'

'I know you're disappointed in me, Boss,' he sniffled.

'No, I'm _worried_ about you, Tony. I'm worried that, despite my best efforts to get through to that stubborn head of yours, you're going to get yourself killed doing something that you think will be funny.'

Tony looked up in surprise, recognising genuine concern behind his boss's words.

'Boss... I...'

He trailed off, unsure what to say. Fortunately, Gibbs wasn't the type to want a long, emotional conversation, either.

'Go on, go get cleaned up, then meet me in the squad room. I want you to apologise to McGee before...'

'I already did, Boss.'

'Well, you can do it again.'

'Gibbs! C'mon...'

'Tony, do I need to get Ducky to drag you up there by your ear?'

Tony glared at him, refusing to return the smirk.

Gibbs headed for the door, clearly expecting him to retreat to the men's room to splash water on his face in a vain attempt to erase the effects of his punishment before facing Tim.

'You have five minutes, Tony. Do not keep me waiting.'


	6. Chapter 6

Gibbs stepped out of the elevator and headed for his desk. He saw Tim look up as he approached, the blood draining from his face as he leapt unsteadily to his feet.

'B...B...Boss...'

'Well done, McGee,' he told the younger man bluntly, hoping to head off the panic attack he saw looming.

Tim just stared at him dumbly for a long moment.

'You put Tony on his ass today, didn't you?'

Tim flushed.

'Uh, yeah, Boss. I... uh...'

'Good job. I'm glad to see all those sessions in the gym paid off.'

'But... I... it was... you said... uh... fighting with... uh...'

Gibbs sighed.

'Tim, did you know that it was DiNozzo?'

'Uh, no, Boss... but...'

'No buts, McGee. It was a crime scene. Someone grabbed you from behind. You reacted. Sounds to me like you did exactly what you've been trained to do. What you were _supposed_ to do. It's not _your_ fault that _Tony_ was acting like an idiot.'

Tim stared at his feet.

'Ducky said pretty much the same thing...'

'But you didn't believe him.'

'No. Uh...'

'You weren't _trying_ to hurt Tony. Why would you think that I'd punish you for it?'

'Because I should have known that it was the kind of thing he would do, and not...'

'Tim, if you didn't bother defending yourself, because you assumed it was just one of Tony's pranks, and it _wasn't_ him...'

Gibbs trailed off, letting Tim make the connection on his own.

'Dammit, Tim... I made sure you _developed _that reflex! Why the hell would I punish you for using it? Don't ever second-guess yourself about something like this. It might save your life someday.'

Tim nodded slowly, his eyes wide.

'Seriously, Tim. I don't want you putting yourself in danger because you're afraid of a spanking. If this is going to be a problem...'

'No, Boss,' Tim interrupted. 'I... it won't happen again.'

Gibbs eyed him carefully for a few moments. He wouldn't hesitate about never spanking the younger man again, if it came to that. The whole point was to keep Tim safe. If his discipline was having the opposite effect, then something would have to change. Tim seemed sincere, but he'd keep an eye on him all the same.

His scrutiny of McGee was interrupted by Tony's arrival. He suppressed a grin as Tim's eyes grew wide in surprise. Tony's face was still red, and he was moving in a way that made it obvious that he'd been punished for his ill-conceived joke.

'I'm sorry, Tim. I should have acted like a senior field agent instead of like the annoying older brother you never had. Time and place and all that. From now on I'll only be a pain in the ass when we're not in the field.'

Gibbs caught Tony looking over at him, clearly trying to gauge his reaction to the irreverent 'apology'. Seeing Tim's thin smile, he decided it was exactly the right tone to strike under the circumstances, and he nodded almost imperceptibly.

Tony breathed an obvious sigh of relief and turned around, taking a step back towards the elevator.

'Ok, well, I'm heading home...'

'No.'

Tony spun in place, looking confused.

'Uh... Boss? Ducky said...'

'DiNozzo, there is no way in hell that you are driving yourself home with that wrist...'

'Uh, ok... I'll call a cab...'

'Tony, you are not staying alone with a possible concussion...'

'I _don't_ have...'

'...or when you're loopy on pain killers.'

'Ducky didn't give me anything stronger than aspirin, Boss.'

Gibbs held up a small square of paper. He'd picked it up from Ducky before coming upstairs.

'I've got your prescription right here, DiNozzo. We can stop at the pharmacy on the way home.'

Tony grinned, obviously pleased enough by the prospect of relief from the pain in his butt as well as his wrist to have already forgotten the argument about whether he would be allowed to stay alone.

'My home,' he added, almost laughing at the way the younger man's face fell. 'It's not a debate, DiNozzo.'

'Yes, Boss,' Tony conceded, with an overly dramatic grimace and a loud sigh.

'Join us for pizza, Tim, if you don't have plans. You can set up that projector thingy...'

Gibbs waved his hand vaguely. Tim and Tony had turned up at his place once, armed with a laptop and some kind of gizmo that projected the screen onto the wall of his living-room, insisting that he wasn't going to watch the PBS documentary he'd mentioned, about one of his old Marine buddies, on the tiny TV in his basement.

'...put a movie on...'

Tim hesitated, obviously unsure about spending the evening hanging out with the man who, just a few minutes earlier, he'd believed was about to take a leather strap to his bare ass.

'C'mon, man, don't leave me alone with _him_ all night,' Tony cajoled, with a sideways nod in Gibbs's direction.

Gibbs glared at him, his hand twitching.

'Concussion, Boss. No head-slaps allowed,' Tony reminded him with a smug grin.

Gibbs raised one eyebrow, then reached out and swatted his agent hard across the backside. Tony yelped dramatically and danced away, out of reach.

He was relieved to see Tim chuckling at his partner's antics. Any concern that the day's events might produce lasting tension between the two men evaporated. Tony had been right. It really was like sibling roughhousing, and the two 'brothers' were apparently already ready to move on.

'Uh, sure, Boss. What do you want to watch?'

'Why don't you pick, Tim?'

'Oh, c'mon, Boss! You let McGeek choose the movie, and we're going to end up watching Star Trek or...'

Gibbs silenced him with a hard look.

'Hey! That's right! I think the movie collection is still in the trunk of my car! Abby and I were planning to watch a couple of them, and then we got called out on the Patterson case and I forgot... Boss? d'you mind...'

'Go get her, then,' he said, anticipating the question. 'I'm going to go get Tony's meds. Meet us at my place.'

Tim scurried off, obviously excited, to catch Abby before she left her lab for the day. Gibbs crooked a finger at Tony and headed towards the elevator. So much for an evening with his boat and his bourbon, he thought.

To his surprise, he realised that he didn't mind at all.

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A/N: Yeah, yeah... the pics in the latest TV Guide have a TV in Gibbs's living-room. I'm relying the scene in Left for Dead where Tony says, "Boss, I know the Farm Report when I hear it. You've only got one TV, and it's in your basement".


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